ascension, descension
by justicearmaggedons
Summary: he rose above the ranks of all and he flew up with the obnoxious force of those god-awful cliff racers back at home many years ago in a land of ash and honour, but then the worth of time turned to stone and his heart was a void of order and he fell into the fringe of madness - the journey of the hero never ran smooth
1. freedom is a price you pay

_He tried so hard, and in the end it wasn't enough._

_Perhaps if he had been born under the Steed, perhaps if he hadn't stopped running all those times, if he had never been put in that cell and never gone on those_ stupid _quests_ **he** _would still be here._

_He hates himself so much._

_The Dragon stands above him, tall and sturdy with its head thrown back in a painful victory, and, just this once, he lets himself cry._

* * *

He wakes up in the Imperial Prison. He does not know how he got there, and he does not remember his name. His bones feel weak and his body is sluggish, an  
only when he drags himself to his cell door is he told he is a Dunmer, and that "You're going to die in here!" from some fetcher in the cell in front of him.

Honestly, he cannot bring himself to care. He lumbers back to the other end of his cell to take in his surroundings, even as the other Dunmer prattles on. There's nothing special in here. He's got a bag on him, somehow, and it seems enchanted because there doesn't seem to be an end to its interior.

There's a pewter cup and pitcher on a table, and he puts the two items into the bag, because he has nothing better to do.

He decides if he's going to refer to himself in his head, Prisoner will do for now. The guards who enter his cell a moment later seem to agree.

They have a wealthily dressed man with them, who, as they decide to open a door in the cell decides to converse with the prisoner.

"Let me see your face..." the old man says. "You are the one from my dreams."

The prisoner is confused and apprehensive. The aged fellow seems out of his mind. But first...

"Who are you?" the prisoner asks.

This leads to an exchanging of words, a banter of questions and answers. The prisoner learns of the man's identity as the Emperor of Tamriel. He learns of the death of the Emperor's sons, and that the Emperor, too, will die this day.

Emperor Uriel Septim is a kind, good man but he is sombre. The Emperor tells the prisoner to follow him through the Imperial Subterrane, and the prisoner gladly complies. They part ways at a door, and through fate and luck are reunited nearing their escape.

They talk again. The Emperor claims his end is near, and that the stars of the Lover will sweeten the prisoner's journey, that in the prisoner's face he beholds the companion of Akatosh. The Emperor tells the prisoner that they are almost at the end, and to continue with him and his guards.

The prisoner asks him if he is afraid to die. The Emperor answers no, as he finds solace in knowing when his time will come, that he has led a good fulfilled life.

One of the Emperor's guards, a young man named Baurus hands the prisoner a torch. The prisoner asks about Baurus's job as a protector of the Emperor, and Baurus tells the prisoner about the Blades, who are, as the prisoner decides, much like the Imperial Legion, but much more secretive and specific. The Blade named Glenroy is harsher, but the prisoner is glad that at least Glenroy hasn't tried to kill him yet.

The four of them try to open the gate to the sewers. It's barred, and they try a side passage that turns out to be a dead end.

The prisoner is told to guard the Emperor with his life, and the two wait at a dead end. The Emperor seems to be counting down his remaining time, as the assassins sent to kill him swarm just outside the room. Glenroy is cut down, and with anguished fervor Baurus slices through the agents, their cloaks red as the blood they have spilled.

With slightly trembling fingers, Emperor Uriel Septim unclasps the red diamond amulet from around his neck.

"I can go no further." The Emperor says. "You alone must stand against the Prince of Destruction and his mortal servants. He must not have the Amulet of Kings!"

The Amulet swings from the Emperor's fingers. The prisoner wonders what the Emperor must have seen in his dreams to trust in an ill fated Dunmer the fate of all of Tamriel.

"Take the Amulet. Give it to Jauffre. He alone knows where to find my last son. Find him, and close shut the jaws of Oblivion."

The prisoner takes the Amulet from the Emperor. He cannot say anything, no acceptance nor conformation, for as the gold chain slips into his bag and he turns back to the Emperor, a sword's blade runs through the Emperor's chest. A soft groan escapes his lips, and Uriel Septim falls to the ground.

The prisoner takes the sword he took at the death of the Blade Captain Renault, and in anger and justice and hopelessness and pain he hacks away at the Altmer assassin, whose eyes widen at the sight of a young Dunmer with fire in his eyes, his heart, his soul and at his fingetips.

The assassin lies dead, but so does the Emperor.

Baurus grieves at their loss, and panics at the lack of the Amulet on the body of the Emperor. The prisoner reassures him, saying he has the amulet and that he is to deliver it to a man named Jauffre. Baurus asks why, and the prisoner replies with the fact there is still another heir. Baurus is relieved and regretful, and too wonders how the Emperor could put such trust in a prisoner he had never met before. Baurus sizes up the prisonerHe gives the keys to the sewers to the prisoner and tells him that though Jauffre is the Bladesmaster and in charge of the Blades, he lives as a monk in Weynon Priory, quite close to Chorrol. Baurus wishes the prisoner luck, and they go their separate ways. The prisoner navigates his way to freedom.

Once he is outside, he finds himself breathing in the fresh air, plunging into the waters of Lake Rumare (and slightly regretting his hasty decision after his fingers are nearly bitten off by a slaughterfish). The prisoner is starting to remember things, like skills and history and locations. He remembers Vvardenfel and moving to Cyrodiil as a young child. But for all he is worth, he cannot remember his own name.

He decides to go to the Imperial City. He has to get supplies, lodgings and news before he goes to Chorrol. He needs gold too. He'll probably join the Arena - he thinks he can earn enough from a couple of fights for a house.

Maybe, on the way, he'll remember who he is.

Perhaps it will come with time.


	2. work and memories fill your day

He's starting to remember more – the fresh air clears his head and revives his lungs. He slashes through a bandit camp outside the Imperial Sewer exit and swims to the Waterfront. The people straggle across the lake bank shore, and a pirate crew eye him distrustfully as he passes by their ship.

He's in the Market district now, and he dully remembers the Imperial Box Office Committee, where the little voice where his memories should be are telling him that he can buy a home here. He definitely knows that he cannot pay for much more than a stay at an inn for a night, but he supposes that he will go to see how much a home may cost.

Walking through the door, he sees a sour looking Imperial woman at the desk in front of him. _Vinicia Mellisaeia_, the voice in his head whispers. He asks her about buying a house in the Imperial City, and she eyes him distrustfully, like a thief she knew and resolutely tells him that she doesn't trust him enough to tell him about houses for sale.

He sighs and tosses her some gold.

At the sight of the money she sweetens up to him and tell him there's a shack for sale at the Waterfront, for two thousand septims and he thinks he may as well fall down and die because that'll take the whole day to save up that much with Arena winnings if he even makes it to the Arena, by iAzura/i that is a lot of money for a Waterfront shack.

But he supposes he'll manage, as he goes down into the Bloodworks under the Arena to sign up as a combatant. The man, Owyn, looks distastefully at him and seems to be stifling some laughter as the ex-prisoner puts on the rather skimpy Arena Light Rainment and strides into the Arena, slashing apart the upstart from the Yellow team with two clean strokes from his steel short sword. Hah. Suck on _that_, Owyn.

Funny, he has barely a scratch on him. Either his opponent was extremely stupid and charged in without training, or he has had much more experience in the field of battle than he remembers. Though it's all a blur_ (a whirlwind of a boy, slashing his way this and that and laughing joyfully, this is what it meant to be free, this is what it meant to be **alive**)._

Eleven hours of blood and gore and a quick run to the Slash n' Smash to sell a few longswords and hammers he got from the Bloodworks later and he has just over two thousand septims.

He manages to get to the Office Committee just before closing time and buys the shack. She tells him that if he wants furnishings of sorts, he should head to the Three Brothers Trade Goods. He doesn't really care.

It's ten at night on a Morndas and as he arranges his new (rather familiar looking, did he own a house like this one before?) one-room home to his liking, he cannot really recall any day remotely like the one.

Of course, if it was any other day, he would probably never have dreamed of joining the Arena, he would never think to purchase a home on the Waterfront, would definitely not be saddled with an amulet that perhaps could change the fate of the world…

He decides he is overthinking things. He is tired and amnesiac and the darkness is an inviting void. He rubs the ashen skin of his face, closes his eyes.

In his slumber, he dreams of butterflies.

The next morning he goes back to the Arena.

After about seven battles or so with what feels like half of Tamriel, he's up to the rank of Champion and is sidling up to Agronak gro-Malog to challenge him for the rank of Grand Champion. For someone who kills others on a daily basis for money (hah, isn't he also doing this for the gold?), gro-Malog is very amiable, very polite. He's going to challenge the Orc. But it isn't quite that easy: Agronak is much too nice, talks too much, and before he knows it he's on his way to the Gold Coast to a fort called Crowhaven to find out about Agronak's heritage, of his father, a nobleman. How noble of him (heh, noble…). How selfless, how kind, how _stupid_.

As he walks up to the fort, it clearly has seen better days. He unlocks the door and pushes it open, walks in and is rather unimpressed when he is greeted with members of the undead. More specifically, _vampires_. They see him and instantly start attacking. He thinks he wants to throw something.

He ends up "throwing" his sword into vampiric faces, collecting vampire dust and looking around the fort. He looks around the inner chamber and finds a diary. He's always wanted to read someone else's diary. Flipping through, he grimaces as he realises that Agronak may not appreciate being a half-vampire, according the diary. His father – the man named Lord Lovidicus, an Imperial, no doubt – seemed likable enough throughout inspection of the diary, not a man to be ashamed of. The diary isn't so much a recount of daily life as a tragic tale.

He finds Luktuv gro-Malog's actions rather drastic, and quite sad. Didn't she love Lovidicus? It shouldn't of mattered that he was a vampire – she'd loved him when she didn't know, when he already was one. He honestly does not mind vampires; he thinks that he'd like them if they weren't always trying to kill him. The sad truth is, though, that the vast majority of Tamriel would much rather see all the vampires dead. Permanently. Preferably with fire. And lots of silver arrows stuck in them. Seems like '"the maiden gro-Malog" would've agreed to these methods.

He looks at the remains of the vampire that he now knows as the sad writer of the diary.

Poor Lord Lovidicus. Poor, lonely, heartbroken, starved Lord Lovidicus.

He makes his way back to the Arena Bloodworks and hands the diary to gro-Malog, casts his eyes down at the obvious horror and disappointment washing over the half-Orcs' face. Agronak believes he is a monster. The ex-prisoner believes he is far from it.

"So… can I challenge you for the rank of Grand Champion?" he asks, shrugging a little with a strained, guilty smile on his face.

Agronak accepts and returns to hacking at the practice target, albeit much more violently.

He thinks later that day, as he stands over the miserable corpse of Grand Champion Agronak gro-Malog, that some things are best left unknown.


End file.
